Slaves to Substance
by SilentAnonymity
Summary: One of ANBU Inu's more recent missions...[Sequel/companion fic to BLTYO. Inspired by Iruka Sensei871's Addiction and TwinTrouble's Dogtags]
1. Two Months Immunity

**Slaves to Substance**

Written By: SilentAnonymity

Dedicated to TwinTrouble, Iruka Sensei871, and LunaVanillaStorm

Chapter 1: Two Month Immunity

Chapter dedicated to SS and to the readers who have returned from BLTYO

* * *

So I'm back with the sequel/companion fic! This time, the themes are inspired by TwinTrouble's _Dogtags_ and Iruka Sensei871's _Addiction_. This story is also dedicated to LunaVanillaStorm for all the wonderful support.

TwinTrouble's _Dogtags_ can be read here: /s/5790911/1/Dogtags

Iruka Sensei871's _Addiction_ can be read here: /s/7373463/1/

_Beautiful, Lethal, Ten Years Old_ can be read here: /s/9566245/1/Beautiful-Lethal-Ten-Years-Old

While this is a sequel, the story stands apart from BLTYO and you don't necessarily need to read it to read this one. However, I would obviously prefer it if you read both, but hey, I'm not the Hokage, I can't tell you what to do!

Yes, I stole the title of this fic from a song by Suicide Silence. I don't listen to them often, but the title was fitting, which should give a hint to one of the major themes in this story.

To skip the irrelevant information, please skip over the italics. To read some rambling and/or venting, just go on ahead.

_Freakout rant: __So some kids in my IDC (Psychology) class were talking about Naruto and they were pronouncing everything incorrectly. It wasn't even like English accented Japanese, it was FULL ON incorrect. I wasn't part of the conversation and didn't want to butt in and correct them. I'm not judging them for saying it wrong, because it's logical to say things wrong- it's another language, but it really bothered me that they were unintentionally butchering the words! D: They were so bad it they weren't even little rookie genin, no, they were like year 1 academy students...actually, worse than that, but better than a non Naruto fan. Still D: _

_E.g. _

_Jounin_

_Actually prononunced: ju-yoo-ni-n (which is the pronunciation of the kana in Japanese...except with the jo part separated- the oo is a long oh sound)  
Their pronunciation: juu-nin_

_Alright, end rant. :'(_

I'm not sure how I feel about this yet. I might change it later...

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

He stopped his musings when he arrived at the tower.

It had been a little less than a decade ago when he had received _that_ talk and entered the tower to be presented with the mission that only he was suited for.

Well, fuck.

Literally.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on the door knob. The quiet whispers on the other side of the wood were audible over the din of the village beginning to wake up. The door opened with a slight clack and creak, revealing the Sandaime sitting with his pipe in hand.

"Ah, Kakashi, enter."

A masked figure who was behind the man, nodded and shunshined away, but not before giving Kakashi a slight nod of greeting.

"The timeline for this mission is indefinite, though, we're hoping for a maximum of three years- it's a minimum no less. We will be using the seal. You will have two months immunity."

Kakashi nodded his understanding.

It was going to be one hell of a mission.

Three days later, Kakashi found himself captured, covered in blood, surrounded by enemy nin, and having absolutely no idea where or who he was. Vaguely, he prodded the lowermost section of the inside of his mind, but no shapeless memories rose.

His mind was utterly empty, save for instinct and muscle memory.

Static vision was an issue that Kakashi had to deal with often, he had trained his depth perception well enough to cope with it, but he didn't know how to deal with the seemingly permanent blindness in his left eye- let alone remember that he had trained like that in the first place.

He blinked.

Nothing.

His right eye roved over the dark room he had been jammed into. Whoever he was or had been, he had a lot of enemies, why else would he have learned how to fight so well?

"Well, well, well. Look who we got here," a voice sounded from his left. Wordlessly, he turned his head to face the new comer.

The door had opened, spilling yellow light in a rectangular shape into the dark room. Two men stood in the doorway.

"Hell, we caught Hatake."

"Pfsh, kid didn't even put up a fight."

"You know how much he's worth on the market, right?"

"More money than we could make in a lifetime. Let's kill him now."

"No, you dipshit, he's worth more alive. We'll deliver him-"

"You're both dumbasses."

The two men turned to face the woman who had walked behind them.

"Take a closer look to his eye. It's sealed with some infernal fucking technique. We can't forcibly remove it, or we'll ruin the eye-"

"So?"

"SO, no one's even seen pretty boy's face. Hell, no one would believe us if we brought a sharingan-less little wanker to a collector. They'd laugh in our faces and accuse us of child abduction."

"So..."

"So we can't collect any sort of reward for him- not until we can get rid of the seal."

"You're wrong there too," the woman said.

From Kakashi's position, he could only make out the dark silhouettes of three people in the door, their voices having dropped to low whispers after the appearance of a third person. Distantly, Kakashi knew he was in danger of some sort, but wasn't aware of enough to know what kind, let alone how to defend himself, or escape.

The person he was before would have escaped, right?

Regardless, the person he was now wanted to get out of wherever he was and get to somewhere safe. Somewhere they didn't bind his arms and legs with chains and in steel casing.

Anywhere but here.

Just as he finished the thought, a feat that was proving to be difficult, but increasingly easier, the two men moved from the door and grabbed him roughly from the chains wrapped around his back, onto his feet. They were bringing him, "Anywhere, but here."

As his wrists were brought closer to his face, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the steel. Shocking blood soaked silver hair, ripped blue mask, a scar running over his left eyelid and down onto his cheek. He blinked.

He blinked again.

His left eye was the shade of yellowing paper, black kanji in the centre where the iris should have been. As he moved his left eye, the kanji iris just moved listlessly around in the direction he moved it to.

Suddenly terrified, he wondered what they had done to him.

From there, he was brought to another small, stone room, but this one was more menacing. Except for a round circle of light that shone from seemingly nowhere in the centre of the room, the rest was basked in shadows, with the slightest shine of light glinting off the sharp, dangerous-looking forms of various weapons.

In the centre of the section of light, sat a straight-backed metal chair with holes cut out of the back and sides. Metal that could conduct electricity. Metal that they could loop his chains into.

Metal where they would interrogate him.

Torture him.

* * *

Review?


	2. Step 1

**Slaves to Substance**

Written By: SilentAnonymity

Dedicated to TwinTrouble, Iruka Sensei871, and LunaVanillaStorm

Chapter 2: Step 1

Chapter dedicated to GATH

* * *

So, the title is taken from a song called In Fact by Gregory and the Hawk and the chapter contains italicized sections of its lyrics.

It can be listened to on Youtube here: /watch?v=pUHywRVMEwo

I'm not sure I like how I dealt with this scene/chapter. Any suggestions?

Please enjoy!

* * *

"So, before we begin, would you like to tell us anything important that might spare you?"

A scalpel glinted in the dim light, as silver as Kakashi's hair, as the man moved closer to the metal chair that the teen was bound to.

"You sure you don't have anything to say?"

No response.

For some unknown reason, Kakashi found himself not fighting the cold, dulled blade slicing methodic and intricate patterns into his flesh, sporadically spilling little rivulets of crimson onto the floor.

"You're such an idiot, he's trained for this kind of shit."

"Like hell I know that, this is for my son in law. The bastard killed him."

"How?"

"Blew up the place. My daughter's dead now, killed herself after he died. A taste of your own medicine, Hatake, let's see if your tongue will loosen after this."

Kakashi removed from the chair and shoved to the stone floor.

_Step 1: Light me on fire._

A suiton jutsu wrapped itself around Kakashi's body, leaving little hexagonal spaces in large patches, particularly where there was a wound, easily containing the fire that would soon be lit (and inevitably making it even more unbearably hot when it happened). The smell of kerosene filled the room as a little bottle of the fluid was produced from the man's pocket. Deliberately pouring it into the cuts and exposed flesh, he dumped the contents of the bottle over the teen. Kakashi bit back a slight hiss as the fuel stung his wounds.

Something told him that the man he was before was someone who could take this.

A match was lit and brought dangerously close to the liquid.

"Fucker."

With a whoosh, the dark room glowed orange. As the gas burned away, leaving the boy's clothes and skin to be fuel for the fire, warm patches in between the cold wet splotches, the teen sweat dropped.

_Step 2: Walk clean away_

The man turned to leave.

The teen in the chair let out a slight gasp and several hacking breaths of air as he attempted to suppress the yell that was threatening to rip itself from his throat.

"You're just going to leave him here?"

"He deserves it."

"He'll die."

"Your fault now."

"She'll be pissed off if you kill him."

_I won't burn long, and evidence of your done wrong will be gone i__n seconds, I swear.  
_

A small sound escaped Kakashi between the gasps.

"The kid's gonna die."

"If you care so much, put him out."

"I'm not the one who set a seventeen year old on fire."

"The kid's a murderer."

_But if you got time anyway, why not watch me hurt?_

"If you walk out now, she's not going to talk to you for a week- what else do you have to do besides getting intel from this guy? At least have a little more fun with him."

_And nothing is sweeter than needed revenge._

The man shifted.

"Piss on him for all I care. It isn't my fault if he dies, you set him on fire."

He did just that; the water jutsu put out the rest.

_Oh that's right. I did nothing and you were the mean one, in fact...  
_

Kakashi didn't understand what was going on past the smell of singed hair and urine. Or the dull throbbing of his flesh as the new burns ached with his wounds.

Lifted again, fingers prodded the worst of the damage before setting him down on the chair again.

"I'll start with a simple one, what did you do to your eye?"

A whip. A crack.

No response. Repeat.

"I said, what happened to your eye?"

And it continued in that fashion for a while where metal glinted, fists were clenched, and fingernails were removed one by one, leaving bloody stumps leftover. Index first. Break them in half and then rip each section off...

Again, a question, the gritting of teeth. More questions. No responses. Mouth forcibly opened, pliers, the slow and steady pressure of the metal against his perfectly white teeth until a split, a crack, the tooth was crushed. Repeat. A molar, a front tooth _let's see if anyone would want to kiss that mouth of yours after this_, incisor, canine...

He said he didn't know anything. A fact.

Wire netting was retrieved. Stripped of majority of his clothing, he was tightly wrapped in the net, bits of flesh creating smooth mounds where the wire didn't slice into his skin. A dull knife was brought out, shearing the bits of flesh that stuck out far enough. Slices of flesh. Flesh like whittled sticks.

Still no intel.

Electric shocks. Asphyxiation. Coughs of blood- it felt like he was drowning from the inside out.

Nothing.

When he passed out, they gave him morphine to dull the pain and to rouse him faster. They healed his wounds majority of the way so they could repeat the process over and over, each time more painful than the last.

Break a joint, pop a finger, dislocate things...

All Kakashi could do was keep himself from crying out or making noise other than the loud rasping gasps because his ribs had cracked again and he didn't know the answers to what they were asking him. He tried telling them so, but they would only hurt him more.

Who was he? Who were these people? What information did he know, but now forget?

He didn't know anything.

He didn't do anything.

He swore it.

Four days into the torturing, the woman returned.

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Review?


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